


The More Things Change

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Jock Strap [Part 2] [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Beta Derek Hale, F/F, Full Moon, Grumpy Derek, Kirallison, Kitsune, M/M, Making Out, Sciles, Season 2-3a, Teen Wolf AU, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, established Sciles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life has returned to normal after the death of Peter Hale, or as normal as it could get for two hormonal teenage werewolves trying to make it through the full moon. When Allison calls for help, they learn they're not the only supernatural teenagers in Beacon Hills.</p><p> </p><p>[What if Scott and Stiles weren't friends growing up and didn't meet until high school? Part 2 of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/126885">Jock Strap</a> is an AU take on Seasons 2-3a.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The More Things Change

So.  _Werewolves._

That was a thing. That was a thing Stiles was, and he couldn’t even put it on YouTube. There were times Stiles reveled at his abilities, like at eleven at night, when he and Scott smoked on the McCall’s roof, and he rolled off after someone got a little too playful. Stuff cracked, but mended almost instantly. Stiles was healed before Scott finished taking off his pants (which was not a remedy he was going to share with anyone, fuck you very much). Of course, if he hadn’t been a werewolf, the hash would have actually  _done_  something, so it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Thought being with Scott was a big plus on the sunshine front.

He wasn’t alone in the werewolfy biz. He had a different set of friends now, a freaky wise veterinarian, and a jackass with a letter fetish to turn to. He had Scott. Two months ago, if anyone had told him he’d be fucking Scott McCall, Stiles probably would have said, “Well yeah, have you seen his ass?” But if anyone had told him he’d be dating Scott, or that he’d be hopelessly in love with him, Stiles would have shown just how stupid he was by laughing in their face.

It still took some getting used to. There were days when the school bell’s shrill ringing made his head want to explode, and walking into the locker room made him physically nauseous with everything he could smell. On those days, he tended to monopolize Kira, subtly trying to hide his face in the crook of her neck. (That was a lie; Stiles couldn’t do subtle if you paid him). She smelled - off, unlike any other person he’d come across, and unlike any perfume he’d ever noticed. Usually, he couldn’t hear her footsteps either, for all that she tripped over her own feet more days than not. If Allison didn’t watch him like a hawk whenever he tried it, Stiles would consider never leaving Kira alone. 

The last bell had rung for the school day. He made a beeline for where Scott would be coming out of Economics. They had a new set of concerns to deal with. It was a full moon tonight, and while their track record was good, Stiles still popped claws as quickly as he did boners. Only Stiles didn’t get to Scott first. Scott’s co-captain was vicious.

"Get the fuck out of my way, McCall."

Yet with all the upheavals in his life, some things managed to stay the same. Jackson Whittemore was still an asshole.

Scott hit his locker with a dull clang, but the sound Jackson made when Stiles lifted him off the ground and shoved him into cold metal was infinitely more satisfying. 

"You  _don’t_  touch him.” Stiles dared. He didn’t care what his eyes looked like.

___

Life was good. Who was he kidding, life was  _awesome_! Everything had fallen into place and it had been hard won, peace and happiness carved out with bloody claws. He still had nightmares of glowing red eyes and a fond hand wiping the blood from his face with murmured praise that set his whole body humming, but they were slowly starting to fade. He had killed people, there would never be any way to forget what he’d done, but he could take this power and use it for something good. There had to be a way to use this curse and help people.

And there was just so much power. He thought it was bad before, but control was difficult with red eyes and Scott found himself struggling to keep the monster inside. At least he wasn’t alone. Derek had stopped trying to smack him into understanding and had started trying to talk to him and Stiles was…Stiles was amazing. The boy would climb through his window, no locked door could keep him out, and they found new ways to fit together. It was bruising and cruel and sweet and loving and Scott would wake up with a shriek on a Sunday morning with Stiles’s hand down his shorts and his body already wracked with relief.

It still shocked him sometimes that one of the most popular kids in school bothered to even look at him, let alone curl up next to him on the couch and watch gory old zombie movies when they were home alone. Stiles was an even bigger nerd that he was, it was a secret Scott protected like he was the only one who’d get to know, though he was pretty sure his friends had started to pick up on it. Erica needled with sharp words, trying to find Stiles’s angle and not trusting him even now. Isaac griped and snarked, though Scott was almost sure that there was a fondness beneath the insults. Boyd watched quietly, but stopped keeping himself so guarded when Stiles joined them during lunch and started to actually smile. Kira adored him, but Kira adored anyone and he had brought Allison into their circle of friends which made her practically spark with awkward teenage love. Allison was quieter than she used to be, a new anger and mistrust behind her eyes that saw right through Scott’s human grin.

They were pack, though no one said the word. Scott knew he was going to have to tell them all eventually, though for now he was content to laugh and heal and be a teenager again. But newfound popularity, friendship, and a boyfriend didn’t seem to impress everyone he knew.

“Stiles, stop!” Scott put a hand on his beta’s arm, trying to calm him down before Jackson was torn in two. “He’s not worth it.”

“Worth it? Like you two losers know anything about worth. You might have everyone else fooled, but I know there’s no way that McCall could do any of this without some kind of boost. Whatever it is, I want it. I’m not letting you cheat your way to the top. And you,” Jackson turned angry blue eyes on Stiles, lips peeled back. “You’re so caught up in a tight needy pussy that you’ve turned your back on your actual friends. I didn’t realize you were that desperate for it. Whatever is going on with the two of you, I am going to find out about it.”

___

It had been a long time since Stiles allowed himself to think about how much  _real_  strength could make a difference in his life. The boy Jackson Whittemore had befriended when they were nine had been bitter and cruel, and they’d both been looking for people who could push back as well as they did. who would rather tear the rest of the world apart than admit their own weakness. Sometimes Stiles forgot that boy still existed, but the lure of power was the most potent siren song. He wasn’t as strong as Scott, but for this, he didn’t need to be. 

He lifted the other teen off the ground with one hand, nails that were a little too sharp drawing blood across Jackson’s nape. He watched the colors on Jackson’s face change, from a faint red to a slowly darkening puce, while expensive sneakers kicked at the ground.

Duncan was gone. They’d found what was left of him, and happily tagged the case with ‘animal attack’ after the coroner couldn’t determine what the murder weapon was. To be fair, there wasn’t much left of the body that she could work with. Jackson didn’t understand how much he’d contributed to hurting Scott. Stiles wouldn’t enlighten him, but, Jackson wasn’t allowed anywhere near Stiles’ Alpha. Stiles was going to make sure of that.

He pinned Jackson’s arm to the locker, holding on with a grip tight enough to bruise. “How many scouts are going to look for a player with a broken wrist?”

Scott felt so far away.

___

“Stop.” His voice was quiet but the command was clear. Scott wrapped his arms around Stiles’s waist, pressing his body against the beta’s back. “Put him down, he’s not worth it. You don’t want to hurt him.” That might not have been true, Scott would have happily smashed Jackson’s face into the lockers until all of his teeth fell out, but it didn’t feel fair anymore. He was too strong, he healed too fast and there was no way Jackson could stand a chance against him now. Scott felt like a few fading bruises didn’t matter when he knew in the back of his mind he could tear the human apart, best to try and avoid violence. No one else needed to get hurt and he never wanted to see blood on his hands again.

Jackson kicked out, free hand clawing at Stiles’s wrist as he fought to breathe. “You ditched me for a lame piece of ass, you pathetic fuck! I looked out for you, we were friends. I hope it was a good fuck, Stilinski. I hope it was worth it!” His body shook in rage though there was fear in his eyes. He couldn’t help but spit his venomous challenge, refusing to admit how frightened he was of his one-time friend and the worthless asthmatic who’d knocked him from his pedestal.

Scott pulled on Stiles’s hips. “C’mon dude, just walk away. Who cares what he says? You don’t need coach freaking out on you.”

___

"How’s Lydia?" Stiles asked softly, a calm anger that felt more vicious than anything he could have screamed. "Oh right. She’s tired of your shit, too."

He was shaking when he dropped Jackson, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes flashed gold. The people around them would never see it. They’d remember Jackson looking like he’d been sucker punched, and Stiles curling into Scott as they walked away. The whole school - or at least the portion with a subscription to the grapevine - would have heard about it by tomorrow, but Stiles only cared about getting as close as he could to his Alpha, and getting as far away from the boy who used to be his best friend.

Stiles only breathed easy once they were outside. He didn’t try to pull away. “He’s not allowed to do that,” Stiles bit out, harsher than he intended, but he had been aiming for ‘cool and composed.’ Jackson couldn’t hurt Scott, but he wasn’t allowed to try. He nipped at Scott’s neck, nearly tripping over his own feet in a bid to get even closer, but his wolf growled in satisfaction as he painted his scent over his mate. Yet he couldn’t deny that it was easier to relax like this. If someone looked over he licked the base of Scott’s throat to the tip of his jaw, that wasn’t Stiles’ problem. “Let’s grab a pizza before going over to Derek’s. Get this party started.”

___

Scott pulled the boy into his arms, the concept of personal space long forgotten. It was easy to keep back to beast when he focused on the beat of Stiles’s pulse and wrapped himself in the scent of his beta. A way to ground himself, an anchor, something he could hold on to when the monster threatened to wash away what was left of his humanity. Scott relaxed against him, rumbling quietly at the feel of Stiles’s mouth. “That was mean, dude. That bit about Lydia.” He still felt badly about it, though it didn’t seem like their brief fling had dampened the Queen of Beacon Hills High’s bright spirit. She’d moved on without a glance backwards, sending the soccer team into a tizzy as they fought for her affections. There was something softer about her too, almost fond as she sometimes joined them at lunch to gossip with Allison and Kira. And the whispered advice about Stiles that she passed along with a smirk didn’t hurt.

“We need to be more careful, we can’t go all furry in the middle of school. You could have pulled that jackass’s arm off and then what? Derek said we needed to avoid stressful stuff like that.” Easier said than done in high school. Scott was slightly mollified by the promise of food and poked a finger into Stiles’s ribs. “He can’t hurt me. A shove or two doesn’t matter, ok?”

He smacked Stiles playfully, heading for the big blue death box on wheels. “You know we’re going to have to actually talk to Allison at some point, right? We can’t avoid it forever.”

___

Stiles squirmed away without actually moving away, smooshing Scott’s face between his palms to get him to stop - and to pull him closer so he could kiss his pretty mouth. Then Stiles kissed him again so Scott would stop saying problematic things.

"Not today we don’t," he replied, aggressively chipper. He’d use the full moon for as long as he could. They needed to speak with Allison. There were too many ways this could blow up in their faces. Stiles was in a difficult position where he understood the risks associated with telling Allison anything, but at the same time - he didn’t want to agree with Derek Hale. Derek’s plans were stupid, like 98% of the time. He also had a penchant for putting his foot in people’s faces, until Scott Alpha’s it out to him (which amounted to a solemn talk about teaching techniques, but that sounded less awesome). Agreeing with Derek most likely meant agreeing with the wrong choice, and it irked Stiles something fierce.

"Today we’re gonna agree that Jackson’s an asshole, and we’re gonna have so much pizza, and ruin Derek’s couch today." Stiles segued in the same tone. Besides, it had worked well for their first full moon. Stiles was reluctant to give up that strategy. 

He shoved Scott against Roscoe, kissing him like it was a competition. He let him go with a smack to his butt, and regretted nothing. “Besides, unless you got a better way of telling her that her Dad wants us dead, and her Aunt’s a homicidal psychopath, I’m not going anywhere near a Hunter’s daughter… Without Kira to soften the murder chances.”

___

“Fine.” Scott allowed himself to be distracted and damn if Stiles wasn’t good at distracting him. He kissed back viciously, pushing always pushing. “Jackson is an asshole, you need to feed me and if we’re going to ruin Derek’s couch we should at least put a towel down. We’re not complete animals, dude. There’s a code. No jizzing on a bro’s furniture without cleaning it up, it’s just polite.” Or maybe it was don’t jizz on a bro’s furniture, but that didn’t seem like that fun of a rule. Even though the sheriff worked late and his mom picked up as many night shifts as she could each week, finding a place that was just theirs was hard for teenage boys. Knowing a grump with a loft always helped, though it usually came with a lecture.

He’d have been more careful if the moon wasn’t pulling on his blood like the tide, sending his emotions crashing through him as control ebbed and flowed. The loft was the best place to be tonight, anywhere else wasn’t safe. He could feel the wolf pacing restlessly in his mind and he was not going to lose it again. He wasn’t going to hurt Stiles again. Derek could go on and on about holding on to your anger and whatever dark gloomy thing he was into, but Scott was going to ride out the moon with pizza and his boyfriend and probably a few well-earned claw marks down his back.

“Something’s up with Kira anyways.” Scott said as he rubbed his butt and slung his backpack into Roscoe before climbing in. “Something weird, I don’t know what it is. I know it’s not really a conversation we want to have, but better we do it than Kate does, right? Who knows what the Argents are doing with her.”

___

Stiles wanted to rub Scott’s butt, too.

"Can you stop accusing all our friends of being weird? Maybe she’s figuring out how to set the moves on Allison." Stiles decided, then paused for a beat, reassessing that assumption. "Hey, that’d be really hot."

He grinned because truth, so much truth. The only way it’d be hotter was if Scott was naked, but that was just the rule of thumb. Speaking of - “And don’t get me started on Tall, Dark and Broody, dude. His couch is leather. We’ve got to take advantage of that.”

Which was exactly what Stiles said when they saw that couch at a garage sale. They’d febreezed it to death. He figured that meant they could use it forever, and Derek would just make constipated faces at them without actually doing anything. For a guy who did the werewolf life for - his  _entire life_ , he sucked majorly at teaching the basics. Rage bombs and growling were less effective than pizza and condoms at helping werewolves through the full moon, true story. 

They really needed to talk to Allison. Derek’s ideas sucked.

Stiles let out a measured breath. “If we come clean with Allison we might - convince her to tell us about Kate.” Part of him was curious, really insanely curious because she was legit off her rocker. People off their rocker had off their rocker friends. But at the same time, he really wanted to see Scott naked. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was just him, or if his werewolf was equally attracted to all that Alpha. “But not tonight. Tonight, we’re gonna get three extra-large pizzas, and those cinnamon sticks, and probably break Derek’s couch.”

___

“All of our friends are weird? You know they’re friends with us, being weird is sort of their job description.” Stiles needed to embrace his inner nerd, Scott knew it was there. He’d seen the DVD collection. The alpha shook his head and laughed, shoving his friend’s shoulder. “His couch is leather which means _you’re_  on the bottom this time. It sticks to you when you get sweaty.”

Allison was going to be a major problem; he was worried how to even start that conversation.  _Hey Ally, what’s up? Oh, by the way I’m a furry monster who killed a bunch of people, Stiles is too and your family has been trying to kill us because they’re werewolf hunters, wanna share a cookie?”_  That didn’t really seem like it would go over so well. Problems for another day, right? It wouldn’t be safe to have such a charged conversation when they were both seconds away from too many fangs or screwing each other in the back of the jeep. That was probably another thing that Allison didn’t need to see.

“Shut up and drive, loser. I want to be six slices deep by the time the moon comes up and too fat and happy to shift. You think you can do that for me?” He gave his boyfriend a challenging smirk.  They totally had this full moon thing down, nothing to worry about here.

___

"Get on my lap, and I’ll show you happy."

The sun had almost set, and Derek wasn’t home when they got to the loft. Stiles honestly didn’t know what a guy who had no family or friends or access to the internet did with his free time. It was one of life’s grand debates. He helped himself to soda though, grabbing one for Scott as a true sign of affection. He pressed the can into his Alpha’s hand as he nipped at his chin, working across his jaw with careful kisses, Stiles pushed Scott back, already forgetting his backpack existed. With the wickedest grin, he planned on making good on his threat, and pulled the other werewolf down on top of him. 

Greedy hands ran up Scott’s spine, bunching up the fabric of his shirt, and Stiles nearly spilled Mountain Dew everywhere. 

They had precautions to take care of, and not just eating a shit-ton of pizza. They had to secure the exits, and that friggin twenty foot wall of glass. No one had jumped out of the loft via window yet, but they weren’t going to take chances. They had to put on those manacles, the leather ones off Amazon, not the metal ones with spikes, really what the fuck, Derek? It was no wonder he had friends.

But first - Stiles slipped his palm under Scott’s shirt, blunt human nails scratching at the small of his back as he murmured, “Do you think I can get you off before Derek comes back?”

Then the power cut off - in half the city.

___

Dinner was forgotten in pursuit of other, more immediate hungers. They couldn’t get enough of each other and the new bond between them made it all the worse. Or better. Definitely  _better_. He tried to put the can on the coffee table, almost missing in his haste to get his hands on his beta. He was supposed to be the level headed one who was concerned with the safety of others and making sure they were both safe before the moon came up, but it was really hard to think about responsibility when he straddled Stiles’s hips and had permission to have his way with his boyfriend.

Scott growled, urging Stiles on as he demanded kisses and ground his hips down.  “I think we can try.” He said, voice low and full of humor. Derek was going to kill them, but at least they’d both be very very satisfied by the time the lecture came. That was worth it. The sudden darkness ruined the mood and Scott huffed, sitting up to look out the window.

It was usually dark in Derek’s loft. The dude had lamps, he just didn’t use them as often as he should but this was pitch black. He blinked rapidly, using his wolf’s vision to cut through the darkness. “Whoa…dude, the whole block is out.” He slid from the couch, pressing his face against the windows and looking out over the town. “It’s dark as far as I can see out there. You think there’s something wrong? Like… _wrong_?” Chances were it was some completely normal explanation, power outages weren’t uncommon, but Scott was starting to think about everything as a potential threat.

___

Stiles liked Scott’s wolf vision. It told him exactly where his Alpha was for kisses - except maybe not, because Scott moved over barely a blink later. Stiles whined, long and low and totally unimpressed. “Dude, you said the same thing when Mr. Fuzzington started acting weird, before you found out about that messed up coon.”

Stiles felt almost bad about that. He liked Scott’s neighbor’s dog, before it started going nuts. It was a testament to how much the supernatural had taken over their lives when the vet’s assistant thought werewolf before rabies. 

Sighting dramatically, he made his way to the windows, and only knocked his shin against one table (because Derek’s loft only had one table). He draped himself over Scott’s back and started nipping at his shoulders. They were being responsible. Tiring each other out before the full moon  _saved lives._  “Come on, lemme take of your pants - urgh!”

Scott’s phone rang, and Stiles seriously considered celibacy, for all of two seconds. What he could hear over the phone, though, had him tensing. He’d never thought Allison friggin Argent could be so out of sorts.

"Scott? Scott, please, it’s Kira. She’s not getting up."

___

“Allison, calm down. If you haven’t called for paramedics, then you need to dial 911. Stiles and I are going to be there as soon as we can. It’s going to be okay, just stay calm. Help is coming.” Scott ended the call, slipping the phone in his pocket and searching around for backpack.

“Something is wrong with Kira, dude. Allison needs help, we need to get there.” It was the worst possible time. No moon-fueled groping or getting off on Derek’s leather couch which was disappointing enough, but trying to keep in control while inside a werewolf hunter’s home? Especially one who knew what they were and had tried to kill them before? Disaster. But Allison needed them and Kira was hurt, if they needed help, Scott was already on his way. He’d deal with the rest later.

“You don’t have to come if you’re not ready, just get the restraints out and wait for Derek. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Hopefully I’ll make it back in time and not riddled with wolfsbane bullets. “Don’t worry, it’ll be quick. I’ll be back before either of us get all fuzzy, okay?”

___

Look at that. There were no killer coons this time. Stiles wished that was a good thing. His heart skipped a beat, a thrill of panic surging up his spine. Being a werewolf was good. So much about their lives was awesome, but he still remembered that night in the woods with frightening clarity. He still remembered what it was like to have an Alpha that could break minds.

"Dude, if you think I’m letting you anywhere near hunters by yourself this close to fuzzy time, you’re crazy," Stiles decided generously, grabbing Scott by the front of his shirt so he could drop a kiss to his - chin. He was so aiming for Scott’s chin. He shot Derek a text, and everything seemed so bright. His fingers tangled with Scott’s, and that felt more intimate than Stiles could put to words. Holding someone’s hand meant losing control of his. He’d take that trade off, with Scott.

"Come on. It’ll be faster if I drive."

Derek was going to kill them.

They took the detour that cut through the Preserve, and Stiles rolled the windows down. Being this close to the woods settled his wolf. It soothed it, like a compromise, even as it reminded Stiles that part of him wanted to be running through those trees, and probably donning a loin cloth.  On the radio they heard there were blackouts all over the city, and no one knew why. “Did she say what was up?” Stiles asked at length, after fiddling with the dial only made his gut drop. He still kept trying. Someone was going to report a malfunction at the power plant. He had to believe it. “Maybe mention a psychopath aunt?”

___

The best kind of friends were the ones who went along with your crazy ideas, no matter how terrible they really were. Scott squeezed Stiles’s hands, grateful that he had someone standing next to him and quietly promised himself he wasn’t going to let anything happen to them tonight. It would be tight, but they could make it and be back for anything terrible happened. They’d been working on control, they could do this. “I think the most dangerous part of this is pushing Roscoe faster than 30 miles an hour, dude.”

Scott watched out of the window, quiet and worried even as his wolf was distracted by the clean scent of pine and growing things. It wasn’t usually so bad, but the full moon felt like it was pulling his mind in two different directions and his concentration was shot. It was simpler to just give in to the animal side and his wolf growled at being locked inside when it wanted to tear itself free from his skin. Scott rubbed his hands across his face, doing his best to keep focused. Allison. Kira. Don’t think about the way that his phone buzzed with angry messages from Derek that he decided to ignore.

“She didn’t say. I’m not really sure why she called us first, but she sounded worries. No psychopathic aunts, I promise. Or threats of being shot in the face. At least if she called us, then I’d doubt her dad is home or she’d have gone to him first.” Small favors, though if Chris Argent wasn’t at home on a full moon, chances were good he was looking to hunt them down somewhere out in the woods. Maybe the safest place to avoid hunters was in their house, who’d look for them there?

___

Stiles liked Kira. She talked a lot, half of her opinions were  _wrong, goddammit there was nothing wrong with more Bat Family,_ and he didn’t know how she existed. She was fierce and lovely, and she’d punch anyone who hurt Scott. But any affection he felt for her was eclipsed by the large, throbbing lady boner Allison carried for her. She wouldn’t use Kira was bait. Stiles understood that much. The Argent house would be just around the bend, a relatively private residence with neighbors who were enough that they wouldn’t hear any suspicious gunshots. Hunters, man.

"We’re almost there, buttwipe, Are you gonna apologize to Roscoe now or-?" Roscoe wasn’t going to need an apology. Roscoe’s was going to need a full body rub.

Something crashed into the Jeep, and the sound of tearing metal was too loud to Stiles’ delicate ears. The body rolled off the hood, dull thumps muffled by screeching breaks. Stiles’ seat belt dug into his chest, cutting off his air. If his eyes got any wider, they’d pop out of their sockets.

"Are you?" He demanded breathlessly, one hand jumping out to hold Scott’s chest, just making sure he was still there, still safe and whole. By the road, half in a ditch lay his victim. When she opened her eyes, they flashed gold.

___

Scott opened his mouth to say something snarky about the jeep (nothing too damaging, he knew better than to get between Stiles and Roscoe. It was a love match made in heaven) when the entire car rocked. He grunted as he was thrown against the seatbelt, insults punched out of his gut as he sucked in air.

“Holy…I’m fine. Are you okay?” He had to check Stiles first, making sure nothing was broken or out of place. Everything else had to wait until he was satisfied, thumping a relieved hand against the boy’s chest before struggling with his seatbelt. “Call your Dad, dude!” Scott said as he tumbled out of the door and ran to the fallen woman. “Get an ambulance here.”

He skidded to a stop, kneeling beside the woman and searching for wounds. “Are you hurt? There’s help on the way, just hang on. Everything’s gonna be okay, we’re so sorry that-“ Yellow eyes met his own and Scott instinctively pulled back.  _Yellow eyes! Just like Stiles, does that mean she’s a…no way_. “Who are you?” He asked softly, unsure if she was injured or just waiting to attack. “We’re not here to hurt you, all we want to do is help.” 

___

Stiles was very invested in making sure he was in one piece, too. He’d seen enough things that belonged in people outside of people to last him a lifetime. Stiles barely snapped off his seat belt, turning to ask Scott if he  _saw that,_  but it was already too late.

Waves of brown hair fell across her face. The sharp tang of blood filled the air, but her gaze was out of focus. It took too long for her to see the Alpha, but when she did, she attacked. She lunged for Scott with a feral snarl, claws outstretched and aiming to kill. 

Stiles didn’t remember getting out of his car. He couldn’t recall shifting, but all at once, rage overwhelmed him. No one harmed his Alpha. Just as the strangers nails sliced through Scott’s chest, Stiles barreled into her. His cell phone lay on the ground, forgotten, ‘911’ just typed out.

___

He hesitated for a split second, torn and hoping he could calm her down but he waited too long. Claws carved through his chest and scraped against bone, blood filled his lungs until he couldn’t scream. The shift rippled across his skin as rage filled him, features melting into something feral and inhuman.

The weight was ripped from his chest as Stiles tackled her and Scott scrambled to his feet, crouched low with a clawed hand pressed against his bleeding wounds. He needed to think this through, he had to stop them both, but the moon made it impossible to focus. His hard won control was lost in pain and the fury that someone was attacking  _his_  beta,  _his_  friend. Scott dug bloodstained claws into his head, trying to shut out the howling, but it was too late.

Scott roared loud enough to shake the windows of the jeep and give the girl pause, but it wasn’t enough. She needed to be stopped, he needed to put her down. The alpha bounded forward, grabbing both wolves in his hands and tearing them apart. He yanked Stiles down and flung the girl away, snapping his fangs. There was nothing left of the boy, just the beast that had stolen his skin.

___

She was faster than anything Stiles had ever encountered. There was a daring in her actions, a desperation fueled by survival. She fought like she had nothing left in the world, and it took everything in Stiles to not die. She’d  _hurt_ Scott. He couldn’t forgive her. He’d never forgive anyone who -

The roar froze him in his tracks, eyes wide and flashing from gold to a dull brown as Scott commanded attention. It was like Stiles’ entire world had stopped, and for a moment, the only thing that mattered was what his Alpha wanted. Slowly, he shook himself from his reverie, as blood cooled across his arms, but he didn’t have to think about tilting his head back submissively, 

It was the worst time ever, for nookie.

Stiles was only vaguely aware that their prey was getting away. She’d recognized a threat too potent to take on, and kept running - right for the Argent house.

___

Scott spared a glance for his beta, even lost to the wolf he was concerned with making sure Stiles was okay. He huffed through his fangs, no ability to form words or string together coherent human thoughts. Everything came in short bursts, simple and animalistic.  _Threat. Hunt. ALLISION!_

He couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried, the power of an alpha thrumming through him and the moon leaving him drunk and heady with it. Scott flexed his claws with a snarl and took off running, leaving Stiles behind. He would protect his pack, she was going to submit or die for challenging his territory.   _Die? Did he really want to kill her? No…stop. Stop her. He wasn’t a killer._

The wolf fought for control, dancing along the thin edge between human and monster as he raced after the omega. He felt like he was drowning in rage, the alpha powers so much worse than he expected. There was too much fear and anger this close to moonrise, he couldn’t…he had to keep it together. “Stop!” He called out, last ditch effort to reach her.

___

The Argent house was just through the trees when she turned on her heel to face Scott. Whether or not it was because she understood him or was reacting to a threat was impossible to tell. A subtle sound, barely audible at best, whistled through the air. All at once, the werewolf keeled forward and fell to the ground. Through the trees, still in her jeans and pajama shirt was Allison Argent. The bow in her hand was no less accurate.

She had another arrow poised, aim marked at the  _werewolf’s_ chest. Her heart was racing, and fear colored her scent, but her features were stoic, her lips pressed pale in a thin line, as she counted down the seconds to what she hoped wasn’t the end. In her bedroom, her girlfriend still lay unconscious, undisturbed in Allison’s absence, just like she’d been when the first perimeter alarm went off.

She’d never been on a hunt before, but every sign was pointing to danger. What happened with Kira wasn’t natural. Allison was desperate for answers, just not desperate enough to turn to people she wasn’t sure she could trust to keep Kira safe. She could still feel the rope burns her father had left on her wrist, from a training session she’d never expected. The other people who lied to her - at least she knew they hadn’t hurt her yet.

Now she might never be able to ask Scott. It took her a second too long to realize who she was staring at. 

But Stiles broke through the clearing and snarled.

___

Scott stopped so quickly he almost landed on his face, flailing his arms to keep his balance. Fear and shock spiked through his brain enough for him to wrest control of the animal and clamp down with a human hand. The Argents were hunters, but he never thought he’d see Allison with a weapon in her hand, fearlessly facing down monsters like she could take on the world by herself. After everything that had happened with her aunt and the alpha, maybe he should have realized they’d start training her. Maybe he should have been more careful.

“Allison!” He slurred the word around his fangs, unable to make them vanish back into his mouth. Even with control, he couldn’t pull back the shift now. Oh god, staring down the sharp point of an arrow really had a way of distracting him from everything he wanted to say…crap, and he looked like a monster himself!

The alpha whirled, holding out his hands and trying to wave Stiles off, hoping the beta had enough control that this whole situation wouldn’t spiral out of control. Someone could get hurt, someone he cared about. Damn it, damn it! He  _knew_  they should have told her. “Stiles, stop!! You have to stop!”

Chris Argent had taught her daughter about the things that hunted at night, reluctant but knowing it was time when they brought his sister back home and stitched her back together.  _Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent._  We hunt those who hunt us. A code passed down for centuries to protect the Argent family and beat back the creatures who preyed on them. Allison just never thought that those creatures would wear the faces of her friends.

___

"Scott?" Allison whispered breathlessly, and for a moment, there was pure horror on her face. She had to be strong. She had to fight back. Kira might be dying, and she couldn’t recognize one of her closest friends. Her grip remained steady the entire time. She’d always excelled at archery. "You’re a…"

 _Monster_  died on the tip of her tongue. Stiles nearly tripped over his own feet, crashing into his best friend. Werewolves were majestic creatures.

It took Stiles too long to right himself. Allison counted six seconds, where she could have let her arrow fly. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. Once Stiles found his bearings, he was almost immediately in front of Scott, features twisted almost beyond comprehension. He seemed to founder, lost for another handful of moments. Allison couldn’t see the way he held on to Scott’s wrist, claws drawing blood, but Stiles needed to know his mate was still with him.

"You killed her," he accused. She barely understood him, but the regret in his voice hit closest to home. She didn’t think Stiles could feel that way. Then the other - creature let out a breathy little snore, and all three of them seemed to breathe easier.

"What’s going on?!" She demanded.

Stiles eyes narrowed into slits, and she wasn’t imagining that they were glowing. “Put your weapon down and we’ll talk.”

Allison met his challenge with an even stare. “You first.”

___

“We can explain.”  _Dear Allison, about that whole werewolf hunter thing…surprise!_  This was not the way he’d planned on having this conversation and definitely not the time for it. He could feel his blood stirring as the moon climbed higher in the sky, the wolf agitated from the attack and more than a little threatened by the hunter pointing a weapon in their direction. Scott focused on the pain in his wrist and the way Stiles’s claws cut into his skin as a way to hold on to himself. If he could just keep it together a little bit longer, they could get back to Derek’s and lock the door before anyone got hurt.

Scott held out his free hand, shaking it to get rid of the claws. He frowned and tried again, unable to retract the nails. “I know this is a bit of a shock and we were going to tell you, but we don’t have time now to get into the details. It’s the full moon and we-“ The alpha winced, sucking a breath past his fangs. “We’re here to help because you called us. I don’t know who she is, but we need to get all three of us somewhere away from everyone as soon as possible. After we help Kira.”

That point was firm. If Allison had called them because something was wrong with Kira, then they would hold on to their control long enough to do something about it. That was a promise, people were counting on them and they wouldn’t let anyone down. “Can you put the bow down? You’re making us both a little nervous.”

___

Allison’s entire countenance shifted when Scott mentioned Kira. She tucked the bow away with well-practiced movements, and once the weapon was out of sight, something soothed in the back of Stiles’ minds. He couldn’t pull back his claws, not quite yet, but it felt like there were less teeth in his mouth.

At least Allison knew her suspicions were right.

"We’ll talk about this tomorrow," she insisted, staring down both of them until they agreed, but her heart was racing a mile a minute. She took a deep breath, but tension had bled out of her frame by the time she started talking. "Kira and I were practicing in the basement, just messing around with my um, weapons. She liked them. We were doing basic exercises."

She pointedly ignored Stiles when he grumbled, “ _Jesus, like foreplay?_ ”

"We got a little too… We hit the circuit breaker, but Kira didn’t touch it. We made sure of it, things just. It just sparked, but then the sparks flew into her, and they wouldn’t stop. I-"

It was so bright. Allison couldn’t open her eyes. She remembered screaming. She was so scared, but she swallowed her shame to forge on with her explanation. “The backup generator just came back on, but Kira hasn’t woken up. She’s on the couch. I would’ve just called an ambulance, but all the power in the city was out, and - what’s going on?”

"Can we see her?" Stiles asked at length, instead of making a Taylor Swift reference. He didn’t look at all regretful when he added, "But I can tell you right now, she isn’t a werewolf."

___

The alpha breathed a sigh of relief, sagging slightly against his best friend as Allison lowered the weapon. Things were always a lot easier to handle when you weren’t looking impending death straight in the face. Whatever it was in the Argents that made them shoot first and never ask questions seemed to have thankfully skipped a generation and Scott nodded his agreement. “When things are a little less  _this_ , I promise we’ll sit down and tell you everything.” Almost everything. Maybe not everything about her aunt and how close they came to killing her. Or the murders he’d committed under Peter’s control. Best to stick with the upbeat and fuzzy version of things.

“Wait a minute, you said the sparks flew  _into_  her? Not like, at her or towards her?” What did that even mean? He didn’t know anything about electricity superpowers outside of a comic book, but if werewolves were real, who knew what else was out there. “We don’t know what’s going on, half the town is out. I don’t think they’ve figured out exactly what went wrong yet. I’m hoping for something at the power plant, something nice and normal and not, well…” He held out his claws for emphasis.

“Kira’s not a werewolf, that’s true. But she’s, I dunno how to describe it. Off? There’s this weird afterimage I get some times, I never noticed it until my eyes went red. I thought it might have been just me adjusting to things, did you ever catch it, dude?” It wasn’t often and never enough to be more than just a red-orange flash out of the corner of his eyes. Scott had just assumed being an alpha meant weird vision issues and didn’t give it much thought at all. Maybe he should have been more worried.

Allison hesitated before finally gesturing them inside. They might be werewolves and her parents had taught her that they were dangerous animals, but this was Scott and Stiles. Still as awkward and earnest with a mouth full of fangs as they were stuffed full of tater tots in the lunch room. “Just be careful, I haven’t really moved her because I’m not sure if she’s hurt. Please, tell me if she’s going to be okay?”

___

They had the decency to pick up the unconscious werewolf, sharing a glance over her head as they slung her arms over their shoulders. She was probably a newly turned person, with how out of control she was. That didn’t exactly explain her strength, but it suggested they had another shitty Alpha on the loose. Stiles was a little too happy to ignore everything in place of Kira. Derek was going to be insufferable. 

"She smells good," Stiles offered the moment he saw her, still tracking mud into the Argent’s living room. Allison’s expression told him he probably shouldn’t have said that, but he held up his hands in mock surrender. "She does! She always - like, she smelled less. Now she smells  _more._ ”

"What does that mean?" Allison asked, looking between the pair of them.

Stiles didn’t mention that it was more descriptive than Scott’s orange thing, which probably just meant that Scott was getting blurred werewolf-y vision. That happened sometimes when Stiles was sucking him off. He didn’t touch Kira though, not when Allison was still holding her bow, but as he watched, Kira grabbed the cushion by her side and turned over, drool already dribbling down her cheek.

"Her heart’s fine?" Stiles asked Scott for clarification. It sounded normal, or at least, the normal he associated with sleeping people. 

"I thought she was electrocuted or something," Allison nodded, brows furrowed, but she stepped forward with confidence bred by familiarity and brushed a strand of hair out of Kira’s face. "It - sparks flew at her. It was like she was sucking them in. You know how, when someone’s welding, sparks fly away? It was the opposite of that."

She didn’t feel so foolish explaining it to this audience. Stiles was picking his ear out with a claw.

"That’s because she’s a kitsune." A voice behind them proclaimed, stern and pompous and just the wrong sort of grating. Stiles’ eyes narrowed as he turned to the other Beta, preparing himself to deal with Derek’s existence. 

He turned on his heel, sarcasm ready on the tip of his tone. He didn’t expect Derek to freeze. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

___

It was hard to put some of the things they could pick up with their werewolf senses into words. There just wasn’t a good way to describe it to those who didn’t feel the world in overwhelming scents and sounds. “Yeah, her heartbeat is strong. I don’t hear any stuttering or skips and it’s not weak or anything. It’s sort of like she’s sleeping?”

Scott leaned close to squint at the girl, distracted for a moment at how pretty she was. It was deceptive, Kira was one of the sweetest and kindest people he’d ever met, but she was a scary badass when she put her mind to it. What kind of thing absorbed sparks? Was she some kind of living lightning rod? A were-electric eel? …was that a thing? Oh god,  _what wasn’t a thing?!_

The alpha jumped at the voice behind him. He could just hear the put-upon scowl just from the tone and shook his head, giving Derek a smile. “Not really sure what a kitsune is, dude. It would be great if maybe you could tell us things like this ahead of time, especially when it’s about the people we know. You need to stop keeping things from us if we’re ever going to learn how to do this! Also, what are you even doing here?” Scott narrowed his eyes, more thoughtful than annoyed. “Ae you following us? Again? We’re okay, you really don’t need to…”

He followed Derek’s shocked expression and frowned. “Uh…we sort of hit her with the jeep? It was totally an accident! She’s okay? Uh…Allison might have shot her with an arrow too. Also an accident. Derek? Dude, are you okay? What is it?”

___

"It’s just a tranquilizer. What do you mean a kitsune?" Allison hastened to add, but reservations were clear on her face. Her grip on her bow had tightened. It would take her barely a moment to pull an arrow out of her quiver, and this stranger was setting off all sorts of warning bells. She was sure he’d seen him before, somewhere - at one of the lacrosse games?

Derek wanted to warn Scott about using his Alpha call on the full moon, when every hunter in Beacon Hills was twice as vigilante and blood thirsty. The words lodged in his throat. He didn’t seem aware he spoke. “That’s my sister.”

"Your dead sister?" Stiles nearly dropped her dead weight. He hastily averted his gaze when Derek growled, but he could hear his racing pulse. In a instant, Derek was taking the unconscious werewolf from them, breathing heavily. He seemed to be shrinking into himself, but he handled the Omega with tenderness Stiles had never seen before. Stiles took the opportunity to Google. 

"Kitsune - like a Japanese fox?" Stiles asked. Derek wasn’t in the business of answering. 

"We’re leaving," he grunted, dismissing the rest of the room, but his eyes found his Alpha’s. He looked like he’d sacrificed every ounce of self-control to stay. "Scott."

___

Scott elbowed Stiles hard in the side to shut him up. Derek looked like he was barely hanging on, the normally stoic expression stricken and almost panicked. He licked his lips and nodded, there wasn’t anything they could do like this and without knowing what a kitsu…a Japanese fox was, they might cause more harm than help. The boy reached out a hand with human fingers to squeeze Allison’s arm, trying to calm her down.

“She seems like she’s sleeping now, she’ll be okay, Allison. We’ll be back tomorrow morning to check on you both and figure out this whole electricity foxy thing. We need to get somewhere safe, the moon’s up and I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Trust me?”

The hunter’s hands tightened around her bow, but Scott’s honest brown eyes and worried face wasn’t the look of a monster. If Kira really was going to be okay, then maybe she’d been wrong about them. And who didn’t trust Scott McCall?

“First thing in the morning.” She meant it to sound like a threat, but fear crept into her voice to turn it into a plea.

“First thing in the morning.” Scott promised. “Derek, let’s go. We need to get back to the loft, I’m not sure how long this is going to last and I think we deserve some answers.”

___

Stiles cursed under his breath when his claws scratched his LCD screen, grunting where Scott had nudged him, but he’d gotten Google up and running. That had to have been some sort of werewolf achievement.

"Yeah, first thing in the morning." He grumbled, turning to go at Scott’s lead. Yet he paused mid-step, looking over his shoulder at Allison with a quiet sort of contemplation. "You might not want to tell anyone about this. Your parents already want us dead." 

And Stiles seriously doubted Argent would take kindly to learning that they decided to drop by for the heck of it. He fell into step beside Scott, meaning to ask about the Beta pacing ahead of them, but Stiles leaned into his boyfriend’s side and ran a hand across his chest. Blood smeared on his palms, and a possessive growl he didn’t want to rein in escaped his throat. It was difficult to try and keep walking with his hands all over Scott. That probably should have waited until they were off Argent’s property, but Stiles regretted nothing.

"Go straight back to the loft," Derek ordered, and Stiles just noticed the Dick Extension parked behind his Jeep. He pressed closer to Scott stubbornly. 

___

“You’re not helping.” Scott murmured. Reminding Allison that her parents would like nothing more than to stick them full of sharp pointy bits until they didn’t get up again was probably not the best way to get her to trust them. Showing up in the morning was going to be bad enough. He really hoped Mr. Argent was a morning person. Maybe they should bring don’t-shoot-me donuts?

The alpha pulled Stiles against himself, huffing in pain as his beta’s hands traced the wounds in his chest. “I’m okay. Relax, we’re gonna get back and ride this out. It’ll heal.” Words might not mean so much on a full moon with emotions running high, but the tone was calm and Scott did his best to appeal to Stiles’s humanity while it still existed. God, his head buzzed and his hands twitched with restless energy. Between the lingering adrenaline from being threatened and the moonlight spilling over the rooftops of the quiet suburban neighborhood, Scott felt like he was going to pull off his skin.

“And what about you? Derek, you can’t just take her and not tell us anything and…” The boy groaned, nuzzling his face against Stiles’s side. “I’m not sure we have enough time to get back to the loft. Tell me there’s a plan B.”

___

Stiles wanted to disagree. Allison was going to have to choose a side eventually, and their side had tatter tots, and sexy times (not necessarily in that order). She could be their double-agent, or their representative in the convention of Please Don’t Shoot. If she could get Argent to be less suicidal, Stiles would by her a plaque. What came out was, “Road head.”

It worked great for them last time, he was pretty sure. He was also pretty sure that his Alpha smelled too much like other people, and he didn’t like that at all. If Stiles could just touch his everything, and - oh God, the full moon wasn’t the only thing that was har _difficult_. He nipped at Scott’s ear, whining pitifully, and Stiles couldn’t shake himself fast enough.

He swallowed audibly, but he still offered, “Scott, you drive. You’ve got better - control. You drive. We’ll get back to the lot.”

Derek looked at them, Stiles already shamelessly scent-marking Scott at every point he could reach, and grit his jaw. “There’s the school, if we need to.”

He looked like he seriously didn’t want to need to.

___

 _Shit_. If Stiles was actually offering to let him drive Roscoe, they were already in trouble. His scent was distracting, the feel of his mouth even more distracting. If they could channel their animal instincts towards each other, it was safer, right? At least this way, no one got hurt. Scott closed his eyes with a shaky sigh, blinking them open as shining red.

“Derek…” he knew he should be more concerned, but Stiles was just so close and thoughts were slipping away. Scott bit down on the curve where Stiles’s neck met his shoulder, meaning it to be a warning but he dropped kisses on the mark and  _fuck_ , he was not going to make out with his boyfriend while Derek Hale was watching. Head in the game, Scott. Don’t think about how uncomfortable his jeans felt or how he wanted to get Stiles on his back and writhing.

“We, um…” His voice was higher pitched than he meant it to be, turning helpless eyes on the older beta. “School might be a good idea. Anywhere, Derek, I just can’t…hurry.” Or they could just get naked right here on the Argent’s lawn, that was totally starting to sound like a really good idea.

___

His wolf purred, and pleasure rumbled through his senses. They were so close to the woods. He wanted to hunt. He wanted to chase, and the best quarry imaginable was already in his grasp. He thought about pushing Scott into soft earth, fucking him until he screamed, until he howled. A crestfallen growl lodged in his throat as Scott turned away, and why the fuck was his shoulder so nice? Why?!

Stiles rubbed his face against it. Scott was painted in moonlight, and he needed to know if it made his skin taste better. He couldn’t stop trying to crawl into Scott’s pants, but he was forced to when Derek emptied a liter of water over their heads.

He sputtered indignantly, shoving off of Scott as Derek put away the bottle, sparing a second to judge them. This wasn’t what he had in mind when he saved it for ‘overheating’ emergencies. Cora was already in the backseat. “Just drive _, Scott._ " 

He was so put upon, Stiles was almost sorry.

___

The alpha shrieked in the most unalpha of ways, gasping as his clothes clung cold and wet to his body. “Damn it, Derek!” Scott shook his head like a dog, sending drops of water in every direction as he took a shaky breath. He was a little more clear headed and the fire in his skin had cooled enough that he could think again without being distracted by how he needed to feel Stiles’s _everything_  on his  _everything_. Okay, he was sure he was usually a little bit more articulate than that, but it was so fucking hard to concentrate! He’d wax poetic about his beta tomorrow morning.

Scott bared his fangs at Derek in irritation but no real malice, hooking his hand into the front of Stiles’s shirt and dragging his friend towards the jeep. What a mess tonight had been, it was like the town conspired against them at the worst possible time when they were already hanging on to control by their fingernails.  The alpha didn’t know how close to the truth he was.

“Get in the jeep, I can get us back to the loft. I hope.”

___

Derek just brought his Major Bitch Face to the table, and Stiles was done with everyone. He let out an exaggerated huff, ringing out the edge of his shirt, never mind that it didn’t need ringing. It took him a second too long to find the bright side in all of this. ”Dude, you’re soaked!”

Then he flicked Scott’s tit through his clingy shirt. 

It was worth not driving, but Stiles held Scott’s hand the whole way back, idly watching water droplets slide down Scott’s chin and all the way down the long expanse of his throat. He made plans to bang Scott on Derek’s bed and maybe shrink all of his boyfriend’s shirts, or maybe just lick his neck into next week. It was a miracle they made it to the loft. Stiles snickered the whole way, reaching across the center console a billion times to distract his boyfriend, and woah, being the passenger was so much better. He only made seven ‘ride’ jokes. It was totally worth it.

They had no way of knowing that another predator watched them retreat. There was more than one pack in Beacon Hills.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP!
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on [tumblr](http://tmautog.tumblr.com/tagged/writing) and keep up with this story [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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